


You With Me Is All The Tradition I Need

by maiNuoire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awesome Sheriff Stilinski, Even though I hate that term, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Gift Giving, Hale Family Feels, Kinda, M/M, Pack Feels, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski, Party, Rating for language I guess, Sheriff Stilinski Feels, Stiles Takes Care Of The Pack, Stiles takes care of everyone, holiday fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-07 19:10:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5467781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maiNuoire/pseuds/maiNuoire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is worried about Derek pulling away from the pack as the holidays approach, so he decides he just won't let him. It's time to make new traditions.</p><p>Basically just shameless holiday fluff that is distracting me from my other WIPs (sorry! But look, I made you fluff!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Festival of Lights

**Author's Note:**

> I definitely had no business starting a holiday fic, because I have 2 in progress and a dozen on a list/in my brain, but this idea kinda took over my life today. Next part we'll be up by Christmas!
> 
> Also, I have a tumblr now! (I'll figure out how to link it) I'm rk-writes-things, come find me for general Sterek flailing, fic teasers, not fics, etc!
> 
> STYLE NOTE: where there are italicized words in single quotes between dashes (-) are Stiles' thoughts/interjections/explanations. I think it's clear in the text, but better safe than facing annoyed readers!
> 
> Enjoy! And please let me know what you think!

It started in early December. Stiles, an easy grin on his face, showed up at his loft one afternoon with a large box containing what looked like wrapped presents and a canvas bag and, stepping inside before he could even be invited in, made his way to Derek's kitchen. Once there, he set the box down and began unpacking the bag as he began to ramble a greeting before announcing the need for a grocery run.

 

Derek blinked at him, taking in the box of candles and the menorah that now sat on his countertop, and managed to ask “Why?” in a way that made it clear the question was actually “What are you doing in my kitchen?”

 

“Because we're having Hanukkah dinner with the pack tonight,” Stiles answered easily, like it made perfect sense, as he continued to unpack; small bags of foil wrapped coins and a selection of dreidels now sat beside the other Hanukkah paraphernalia. “I thought it'd be more fun to shop together, then if I did it myself. Plus, it'll get you out of this place for a while.” Stiles had been worried that Derek was withdrawing for the holidays, so he decided that he wouldn't let him.

 

“And why are we having a Hanukkah party?” he asked, eyeing the box of gifts and growing pile of decorations- are those lights shaped like dreidels?- warily.

 

“It's been a long year, Der. I thought we could use some new traditions, a little… cheer, you know?” Stiles says it casually and with large hand gestures, like _a long year_ isn't the understatement of the decade. But he's so earnest, so hopeful, that Derek doesn't have it in him to deny him. So he rolls his eyes slightly, because he can't just _give in,_ even though they both know that's what's happening, and grumbles a low “I'll get my shoes,” and tries to ignore how Stiles’ gaze drops to his bare feet and traces back up the line of his body to his face, his bottom lip sucked slightly into his mouth, tooth barely visible where it bites into the plush, pink flesh. Tries, and fails spectacularly not to match the slight flush on Stiles’ cheeks with his own.

 

Stiles swallows audibly, and releases a quick breath and says a little too loudly “Great. Yeah, I'll just finish up here,” and gestures vaguely at the holiday supply laden counter. Derek can't stop the smile that curves his lips at Stiles’ stammering, and tosses a “Be right back,” at him as he turns to get his shoes and jacket on.

 

At the grocery store, they load the cart with potatoes, onion, eggs and oil- ‘ _The boxed stuff is yummy, but nothing beats made from scratch, Derek. You'll thank me later’-_ they get chicken stock and soup vegetables and matzoh ball mix- _‘Not traditional Hanukkah fare, but so, so good. Any excuse for matzoh ball soup, Der_.’- they grab more chocolate coins- _‘Gelt, for dreidel ante. Plus, chocolatey snacks._ ’-  applesauce and sour cream- ‘ _For the latkes’_ \- and salad makings- ‘ _We need something that isn't fried’_. It's the most fun Derek has ever had at a grocery store.

 

On the way home, they stop at a bakery for donuts- _‘It's traditional, Der. And who doesn't love donuts?’_

 

\---------------------

 

When they get back to Derek's, they unloaded their bags and Stiles began delegating kitchen duties, much to Derek's amusement. Especially when he realized he was ordering the Alpha around _in his own home_ , and he stopped talking, and gesturing, and breathing for a moment, arm in midair, hovering above a bag with a large cucumber clenched in his hand. Taking pity on the flustered human, Derek reached for the cucumber and made an encouraging sound, smiling when Stiles continued on listing off their tasks, both of them returning to their unloading, moving effortlessly around each other, working together in Derek's kitchen like it was habit.

 

“And so, before we get started on dinner, we should decorate. There's not too much, because Hanukkah decorations are frustratingly hard to find, but it'll be nice to decorate a little.” Stiles paused, pulling a bemused face, laughing lightly, “I have never said _decorate_ so many times in a single conversation.”

 

Derek let out a short bark of laughter, agreeing “It was a lot, yeah.” He held out his hand over the short distance between them to help Stiles up from where he was crouched to reach a low cupboard, Stiles took it automatically and then held it for a moment too long after regaining his footing before he seemed you realize he had taken Derek's hand. And held it. He dropped it quickly, leaving Derek to briefly miss the heat and slight pressure of Stiles’ palm against his own.

 

Shaking off the sense of loss and smiling, Derek grabbed a string of- yes, dreidel lights- and asked “Where should we start?” Stiles answering grin probably should have been terrifying, but it just filled Derek with a warm, light feeling. He was definitely starting to get on board with the Hanukkah spirit.

\-----------------

 

By the time they finished decorating, lights and blue and silver garland- _‘I had to improvise a little.’_ \- and sparkly Stars of David hung rather expertly around the loft, and Scott and Allison had arrived to help. Derek tried not to show his  disappointment that his afternoon with Stiles was over as Stiles left him hanging the last string of lights to let them in (to Derek's home,  like it was natural to answer other people's doors) but he must not have been too successful if the look Scott and Stiles both gave him was any indication.

 

He schooled his features to give their- his- guests, his pack, a genuine greeting. His enthusiasm returning as Allison and Scott both gave off such happiness at the change, each giving him and Stiles a hug and complementing their decorating efforts.

 

“So, what can we do?” Allison asked, smiling easily at Derek and masterfully covering her surprise when he deferred to Stiles with a fond sounding “Ask him, this is Stiles’ party, I'm just hosting.”

 

“And helping me cook,” Stiles added cheerfully. “We haven't set the table yet, you guys can do that while Der-bear and I start dinner.” Stiles grin at the huff of annoyance Derek let out at the nickname was not nearly as charming as he thought it was. Nope, definitely not.

 

Allison's smile was a little… smug, maybe? While Scott's was as genuine and unaware as ever, even as Allison appeared to be trying to communicate something to him with just her eyes and a quirk of her lips. Stiles noticed and thought briefly that she could learn a lot in talking with her eyes, and specifically her eyebrows, by watching Derek. Derek noticed and thought that Stiles could teach her a thing or two about saying something with a smirk.

 

Stiles broke the moment, as he often did, by sticking his foot in his mouth. “Alright then, let's go get things heated up! Er, get things- dinner cooking,” he grimaced and Derek decided that wasn't allowed on pack Hanukkah, so he laughed and half dragged Stiles to the kitchen with an amused “Come on, Chef Stilinski.”

 

The smile on Stiles’ face outshone the kitschy dreidel lights that blazed overhead. “Plates and stuff are on the table, guys. Just relax when you're done, Der and I can handle the food.”

 

So, Derek and Stiles peeled and grated and grated and fried and chopped, and made enough food for a small army. Which was good, because werewolves ate like one. Erica and Boyd and Lydia arrived with small gifts, and their were hugs and fist bumps all around, and Derek did _not_ feel a wave of jealousy when Lydia gave Stiles a kiss on the cheek. Even if the other wolves in the room gave him curious side eyed looks. The atmosphere was joyful, it was warm and felt like family. Stiles beamed with something that looked like love as he glanced around the room, his whole being radiating happiness when he settled his gaze on Derek.

 

It made something hot and hopeful tingle in his belly, and he felt lighter than he had in years. Still, his voice was thick with some not ready to be named emotion when he called everyone to the table.

 

“Oh! We have to light the menorah!” Stiles rushed to the kitchen to bring the menorah, candles, a lighter, and a stack of index cards back to where their meal was waiting at the long table Stiles had made Derek buy- _‘So we can have family dinner, silly, that's why you need it.’_

 

The index cards, as it turned out, had the phonetic pronunciation of the candle lighting prayers. At the collective raised eyebrows of the pack, Stiles frankly quirked his own brow and said “Hey, new pack tradition. Plus, if there is a deity out there paying attention right now, might as well appease them. All the shit we go through here, we need all the help we can get, am I right?”

 

He was, so they prayed. Derek lit the single candle in the menorah with the candle Stiles handed him _\- ‘Your house, Alpha’-_  and felt an answering warmth kindle in his chest, unsure if it was Stiles addressing him as Alpha, the feeling of his pack happy around him, or how in the moment his house felt so much like home.

 

They sat and ate, and seriously, fried potatoes should not be this amazing. They laughed and joked and told stories about childhood holidays, remembering not so sharply painful for once. After the meal, they played dreidel, betting chocolate coins and cursing their less than stellar top-spinning abilities. Erica won the last round with a gleeful “ _Gimmel_ , bitches,” as she scooped up her chocolate winnings, popping one in her mouth with a grin and asking with obvious eagerness “So, present time?”

 

The proposal was met with a chorus of enthusiastic “Heck, yeah’s” and Derek took a moment to bask in the barely controlled chaos of his pack bustling around gathering their gifts. There had apparently been some kind of lottery, as everyone had two gifts to give, and received two in exchange. Everyone except Stiles, who had two gifts for each of them- _‘My idea, my prerogative, yeah?-_ though Derek suspected he just liked taking care of everyone, as his gifts proved to be both practical and personal.

 

From Stiles, each pack member received socks and a t-shirt- _‘There is a long tradition of practical gifts at Hanukkah. And have you not noticed how we all go through clothes? We fight monsters, guys. Now we can do it in clean socks and shirts without claw marks or monster guts on them. You're welcome,’_ \- and one item that he had clearly thought deeply about, as each was met with genuine surprise and gratitude.

 

As his pack each handed him their gifts, he was suddenly embarrassed by his inability to reciprocate. Stiles looked sheepish, apologizing for not warning him, but Boyd spoke up, “Derek, you gave us a family, that's all we need from you.” The rest of the pack echoed his sentiment, and Derek had to clear tears from his throat before he could reply.

 

“That's, thank you, Boyd, all of you. But you gave me the same and you should all know how much that means-that you mean, to me.”

 

“We don't need gifts for that,” Lydia insisted.

 

“There's seven nights left, right?” Scott joked.

 

“There's always Christmas,” Stiles whispered into his ear, and how did he miss that Stiles was so close? His breath in Derek's ear sending a warm, pleasant shiver down Derek's spine. Before he could clear his head to respond, Stiles announced “Clean up, then movie time!”

 

Everyone cleared the table, packaged leftovers- ‘ _I promised Dad latkes and matzoh ball soup, he'll need some salad, too, please!_ '- and rinsed dishes. Then they all piled on the sofas by the television, most of them pressed close to at least one pack mate, and watched _Eight Crazy Nights_ , because apparently -‘ _It's a Hanukkah classic! It's says so on the case. Plus, there aren't a whole lot of Hanukkah movies!_ ”- Stiles ended up next to Derek, their legs touching and shoulders brushing, and it was as easy as breathing for Derek to put his arm over the back of the couch behind Stiles’ shoulders. Even easier for Stiles to press in closer, almost lean against his shoulder. Derek leaned in to speak into Stiles’ ear “Thank you for this, I don't think I can thank you enough, Stiles. This was amazing.”

 

Stiles turned into his shoulder to look up at him, “Happy Hanukkah, Der.” The you're welcome obvious in his smile.

 

“Happy Hanukkah, Stiles.”

 

Neither notices the soft looks their friends are giving them.

\-------------

 

He probably shouldn't have been, but he was nonetheless surprised when Stiles came over the next evening, Chinese takeaway in one hand, a movie in the other. “So, Chinese food is more of a Jewish Christmas tradition, but I figured we were making this our own thing anyway, right?” Stiles asked as he walked into Derek's house.

 

Derek missed a beat, but managed to refrain from asking what Stiles was doing there. Again.

 

Derek followed Stiles into his kitchen, where he was pulling out plates and forks, and he moved to set up the menorah on the counter. The happiness that rolled off of Stiles when he saw Derek arranging the candles nearly knocked him over.

 

“Hope you don't mind it's just us tonight, it was tricky to get everyone available at the same time for last night,” he asked it casually, but Derek knows he wants reassurance, needs to know he's welcome.

 

He says simply, “Of course not. This is great,” because it really is. Stiles smiles and Derek returns one of his own. They light candles and eat Chinese food at the coffee table, talking easily. After the meal is cleaned up, Stiles says “Oh, I almost forgot-” and runs off for a moment. He returns with two wrapped packages.

 

“I didn't give you your present last night, so there's one for then, and one for tonight,” he says, handing over the brightly colored paper clad presents with a grin.

 

“I have something for you, too. Hang on,” Derek says, voice bright and heart full with anticipation and that feeling he's still not naming. He's back in time to catch the last of Stiles’ surprise as it melts into happy curiosity. He hands Stiles a small box he's wrapped in blue and silver paper,  _HAPPY HANUKKAH_ handwritten in his own neat script across the front. “You first, please.”

 

Stiles carefully, so as not to tear where he'd written, Derek realizes, pulls the paper away. It's a special edition of _The Hobbit_ , an early print run, bound in rich leather and embossed. Stiles looks briefly stricken, and Derek has almost enough time to panic, but it's cut off as Stiles is suddenly hugging him, exclaiming excitedly “This is incredible, Derek. Thank you so much!” Derek can only let out a small chuckle and hug him back, reveling in his closeness and his warmth and his smell for the too brief remainder of their embrace.

 

“I can't believe you got this for me, Der. Seriously, thank you! Open yours, now. Please!”

 

Derek laughs out an “Okay,” at Stiles excitement over _his_ gifts, and opens the first package, careful as Stiles not to rip where Stiles had written _Derek Night 1_. He makes a mental note to get seven more gifts when a quick glance shows the second gift says _Night 2._ Inside the paper is an 8x10 picture frame with a group photo of the pack in it, Derek is in the center, the rest arranged around him, the green of the Preserve behind them, they're all smiling and they look happy, they look like a family. Derek can't keep the smile from his face. He can feel Stiles about to speak, to apologize, and he can't let him be sorry for whatever it is he's convinced himself he should apologize for- not spending a fortune, maybe?

 

“It's perfect, Stiles. Perfect.” He can't keep the fondness from his voice.

 

Stiles is blushing slightly. It's adorable. He motions to the other package.

 

Derek opens it and is pleased to find a dark blue henley, it's soft and it carries a hint of Stiles’ scent from when he wrapped it. Something in Derek preens at the idea of Stiles wanting to take care of him like he does the others.  “So I can fight monsters, and look good doing it?” The joke pays off in Stiles’ snort of laughter. “It's a really nice shirt, Stiles. Thank you.”

 

Stiles shrugs good naturedly, “Wanna watch a movie?”

 

They end up on the couch, Stiles’ socked feet on Derek's lap. It's a good night.

 

\-----------------

 

They go on like this for six nights. Stiles gives Derek a throw blanket for the couch- ‘ _We don't all have supernatural body heat, Derek_ ’- and he loves that Stiles got him a gift that means he will be there more often.

 

Serendipitously, that night Derek gives Stiles a red, fleece lined hoodie and a knit hat.

 

He gets Derek a mug and coaster set with wolves on them- _‘Come on, Der. Wolves! They're amazing and you love them, don't even try and pretend you don't_ ’- they are, and he does.

 

Stiles gets a certificate for a local mechanic, a complete tune up for his Jeep. Stiles beams.

 

He gets Derek a heavy book of werewolf lore from around the world, Derek laughs and points to the package in Stiles’ own lap where an identical book is waiting to be opened. Stiles joins him in laughing, “Perfect!”

 

There's a block of CDs, some mixes Stiles had made himself, they spend the night listening to music, Stiles talks him into dancing- _‘C’mon, dance with me. Pleeeease?_ ’-.Their bodies move around each other in perfect sync and Derek has to admit he's falling hard.

 

Stiles gets a new watch- ‘ _Der, this is too much’-,_ a collection of socks with comic book characters on them -’ _Dude, these are awesome! I can totally kick monster ass in these!-_ and a stuffed black wolf that Derek will not acknowledge looks just like him in wolf form. He also doesn't growl or moan when Stiles laughs and snuggles the stuffed animal enthusiastically, declaring it adorable.

 

There's a beautiful art print of a forest at sunrise- _‘For mornings when you miss the woods, but can't get there’_ \- and the sentiment takes his breath away as surely as the stunning scene.

 

The last night, there's a scarf- _‘We're eating outside, it's breezy. Wolfy internal furnace or no’_ -and basket of spices and a recipe card; Stiles brings extras from the grocery store, and they cook dinner together and eat outside, picnic style; Stiles wears his hoodie and his hat, Derek’s wolf is just as happy as he is to see evidence of his ability to take care of Stiles for a change. Derek is again awed by how natural it feels having Stiles in his home, how easy they work with each other.

 

They lay on the blanket after, staring at the few stars visible through the light pollution, close enough to share body heat. As conversation turns more personal, they turn toward each other in unison, mere inches between them. It would be so easy to turn their proximity into a kiss, but neither makes a move. They move inside and end up on the couch, Stiles against the arm of it, his ass flush against Derek's thigh, legs bent over Derek's lap. Derek's arm rests lightly along Stiles’ leg, hand loosely on his knee. They talk until they're both fighting sleep, both reluctant to end the night, to let the other go.

 

“I should probably go,” Stiles says with a yawn, “Dad's got breakfast planned for the two of us tomorrow.” He reluctantly swings his legs away from Derek, who relinquishes Stiles’ knee begrudgingly, so he is sitting next to him instead of over him. His shoulder is teasingly warm against Derek's.

 

Derek rises after another yawn stretches Stiles’ jaw and helps the human to his feet, they sway a little, leaning into each other's space. Derek settles a hand on Stiles’ hip, the touch tentative until Stiles places his own hands on Derek, one on his shoulder, forearm flush against Derek's chest, the other cradling his face. Their eyes meet and lock, each searching for an answer and an answering need in the other's gaze. Neither could tell you who moved first, who it was that closed those last precious inches and pressed their lips together, but soon they were moving together, and it was hot and slow and  _perfect_.

 

Their lips clung gently, tongues sweeping in exploratory circles, hands stroking over desire warmed muscles through soft cotton. They slowed and parted with several short, pecking kisses, twin smiles curling their mouths felt by the other as they continued to press them together before settling to look at one another again.

 

“Happy Hanukkah, Stiles,” Derek says softly into the space between them, his smile coloring his tone.

 

“Happy Hanukkah, Derek.” Stiles steps away reluctantly, his hands seeking and catching Derek's as he moves back several small steps. “If I don't go now-” his voice is reluctant, full of a barely concealed whine

 

“You ok to drive, ba-,” Derek cuts off the endearment, “drive back?” Stiles graciously ignores the slip with just wide grin.

 

“Yeah, I'm alright. I'll text you when I get there. And I'll talk to you tomorrow?”

 

Derek can't hide his confusion “Tomorrow?”

 

“Yes, tomorrow. Day after today. Though technically it's after midnight.”

 

“But Hanukkah is over?” That's why he's been so anxious about the night ending, the holiday was over and he was certain he would lose whatever this magic was. The look Stiles levels at him, incredulous, thankfully not hurt, makes something like hope spring to life in his heart. “I thought after, that you'd-”

 

Stiles mercifully cuts off his verbal flailing with a kiss that Derek sinks into. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

 

Derek exhales a relieved and elated “Ok,” through a sincere smile.

 

“We're picking out a Christmas tree.”

 

Derek laughs. He can't wait.


	2. All I want for Christmas is you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek celebrate Christmas, there are cookies and a minor misunderstanding. And kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, guys! After my last fic posted yesterday [The (perfect) little things] I got over 1,800 new hits! In one day! Thank you so much for the response, it made my whole week!
> 
> This is part two of the little holiday verse I apparently needed to write. I honestly am not sure I like it as much as the Hanukkah part, but I kind of loved that part, so hopefully you all enjoy this!
> 
> I think I'll wrap this up with a New Years chapter. Thoughts?
> 
> Thanks for your continued support, we will soon be back to regularly scheduled fics (Substitutions and Good Man) and occasional porny one-shots.

The day after Hanukkah ended, Stiles arrived at Derek's in late morning, he wore the hat Derek had given him and carried a tray with two coffee cups and a bag of croissants balanced in it. The smile that greeted Derek when he opened the door did more to warm him than the coffee could ever hope to, and the soft press of lips that accompanied his “Good morning,” was better than anything. Derek couldn't help the smile that broke the kiss, or the way he pulled Stiles back to him to kiss him again, this one just as sweet but _more_. He tilted his head and held Stiles’ jaw gently, opening his mouth slightly and encouraging Stiles’ to explore with a teasing lick at his bottom lip.

 

Stiles went to wrap his arms around Derek, and that's when they were both reminded of the coffee tray, as he barely recovered the tray before they were both scalded by the still too hot to drink brew. “Whoops. That would've been a very rude interruption,” Stiles’ face is caught between kiss-dazed and panic stricken at their near baptism-by-latte, and Derek struggles not to find it absolutely charming as he takes the tray with a soft kiss to Stiles’ cheek and a “Morning, Stiles.”

 

They make their way to the couch and talk easily as they eat pastries and drink their coffee. They sit close, exchanging casual touches, both awed that this is a thing they get to do: a brush of a thumb across a lip to chase a crumb away, an arm slung casually over broad shoulders, knees and legs touching as they shift on the oversized cushions. Hands seeking each other, fingers twining together. It's all so easy.

 

It's incredible.

 

And terrifying.

 

“Are you freaking out about this?” Stiles asks as he runs the hand not currently holding Derek's through Derek's hair, “because this doesn't have to be anything you aren't ready for, Der.” Derek can hear the truth of it, but he can also see the hope and the yearning in Stiles’ face, can smell the faint beginnings of anxiety, even as Stiles radiates an earnest sincerity.

 

Derek takes a moment to take it all in; the warm weight of Stiles’ hand curled around his, the softness of his lips curved up ever so slightly in an understanding smile, the warm honey and whiskey eyes that darken ever so slightly when they kiss, how right it feels to have Stiles in his house. How it feels like home now, with a family to fill it up, with Stiles to make him consider new traditions, and make him buy the big table and cook with him in his kitchen. And it's still terrifying. But it's also all he ever wanted and didn't think he'd ever get to have.

 

So he clears his throat, and lifts their joined hands, places a kiss where it's mostly Stiles’ fingers, but also a little bit his, and says the only thing he can, “Whatever this is, I want it. All of it, all of you. Us. Everything.” Stiles’ smile is brilliant, and he can't help but continue, “My life is so much more with you in it Stiles. You have given me a family, shown me how to smile and hope again. I meant it when I said I could never thank you enough.”

 

“Der,” Stiles’ voice is soft as he climbs into Derek's lap, hands still clasped, “I can't take all the credit for any of that, but I will totally make sure you always know you deserve those things.” He places a kiss to Derek's jaw, a small, nip of a kiss, and one on his cheek, then his temple, “And whatever this is, whatever we are,” he holds Derek's face with one large, warm hand, “I am one thousand percent on board.” And then they're both smiling and kissing and holding each other, and it's an hour and a half before they're getting in the car to go to the tree farm.

 

\-------------

 

Picking out a tree, like almost everything else with Stiles, is exasperating. But also, it's fun. Fun like Derek hasn't had in longer than he cares to acknowledge. They laugh, and throw fake snow at each other, and when the lot attendant calls them boyfriends, Derek is slightly startled until he sees Stiles’ eyes go all warm and bright and round, so he just pulls him close and kisses his head, and says “It's our first Christmas together, so we need a really spectacular tree.” The surprise on Stiles’ face and the absolute happiness in his scent is the best gift Derek's ever gotten. Stiles is pretty sure that the simple acknowledgement and Derek's smile when he says “we" meaning _StilesandDerek,_ and the future implied by “our first” is the best gift he's ever gotten.

 

They hold hands and grin goofily at one another as they wander the part of the lot that the attendant had pointed out after telling them “You guys are seriously adorable.” Derek definitely did not blush as he stammered out a “Thank you,” that managed to sound like a question. Stiles, of course, just laughed and said, “I know, it's ridiculous, right?” and pulled Derek along, deeper into the trees.

 

Stiles outright rejects Derek's first two suggestions- ‘ _It's not the right color, Der.’ “Stiles, it's a tree, is green. They're_ all _green.” ‘It's not the_ right _green’-_ and - ‘ _It's too skinny, babe.’-_ and the easy endearment had been enough reason not to argue, even as Stiles’ heartbeat kicked up a little as he caught what he said. Derek squeezed his hand and dragged their clasped hands to his lips and said through a smile “Alright then, let's keep going until we find a nice fat, _green_ tree.”

 

They find it a few minutes later by happenstance. Stiles had pulled Derek slightly off the makeshift path to kiss him breathless, and when they parted to catch their breath, there it was in front of them. It was a couple feet taller than either of them, and apparently fat enough and just the right shade of green. They pay and bundle it up so they can tie it to the roof of Stiles’ Jeep. On the way to the car, Stiles stops abruptly, staring wistfully at a small, scraggly tree. It can't be more than three feet tall, standing slightly lopsided in its cheerful red pot, and it looks like it lost a fight with a weed whacker, Derek falls in love with it immediately. “Stiles?”

 

“Derek we need that tree.”

 

Derek looks pointedly at the large conifer currently resting on their shoulders.

 

Stiles told his eyes, clearly annoyed. “Not instead of this one, this is our spectacular first Christmas tree, but that. That tree is _ours_. It needs us, Derek.” Stiles is so adamant, all Derek can do is nod and say, “Ok, then we'll bring it home,” and try not to lose his breath at the way he feels using home in that context with Stiles, like it's _theirs._

 

So, Stiles, beaming and oblivious to the way Derek's heart is swelling in his chest like a certain green children's book character, calls a nearby employee over and has them set the disaster tree aside- _‘It's like an actual Charlie Brown tree, Der. How awesome is that?_ \- so that they can bring the larger one to the car. The guy gives them an odd look, but neither notice as they smile at each other over their pine scented burden.

\---------------

 

Stiles has enlisted the pack to help haul the tree inside - _’I'm only human, Derek. No way I'm making it up the stairs lugging that thing. We have friends with super strength, it'd be crazy not to use it, plus, this way I can watch you work’-_ and Derek tries again to be grateful instead of disappointed. Everyone is there a couple hours later, even the sheriff and Melissa come, they bring pizza and the pack greets them like heroes back from war.

 

Each pack member has brought a few things to hang on the tree, and the evening is full of laughter and tinsel and stories about where this or that ornament came from. They string popcorn and cranberries that Stiles had apparently had stashed in his trunk- _‘It looks pretty, and you get to snack as you work. Win-win’-_ they wind way too many lights around the tree- _‘Why do you hate sparkly things, Derek? Let there be lights, Der’-_ and it's great. Everyone is happy, and Derek soaks it in eagerly.

 

Everything is wonderful, or it would be, if Stiles would just sit a little closer to him, or come within touching distance. Or kick everyone out so Derek can see how far down his body those little moles and freckles stretch.

 

But he doesn't. He isn't any farther away than he would be at any other pack meeting. He's not standoffish our avoiding Derek, he's acting like he always does, like nothing's changed. Which is a problem, because obviously it has. Unless Derek has it wrong, somehow, and maybe Stiles has been… humoring him? But, no. No. Stiles wants him, wants _them_. So, there must be something else going on, he just has to figure it out.

 

After eating, everyone gathers back around the tree. Stiles produces a tree topper shaped like- is that a wolf howling at the moon? Oh, for Pete’s sake, that's… so very Stiles. Stiles must notice something in his expression, because he smirks as the rest of their friends notice the ridiculous thing and laugh- _‘You know you love it, Der, don't even try to deny it. It's awesome’-_ and Derek can only smile and agree quietly, “It is. And so are you.” He wants to pull Stiles closer, kiss his smirking mouth, but before he can, Stiles is pushing the decoration into his hands and saying “You should put this on, it's your tree,” tacking on a fond but teasing “Alpha.”

 

But it isn't _his_ tree. It's their tree, his and Stiles’ spectacular first Christmas tree, and maybe this is why Stiles has been acting like he has, maybe he needs Derek to make it clearer that they're more. Derek smiles, wide and excited because he knows how to get his kiss now. “You do it,” he says, his voice soft and brimming with affection, then low, so only Stiles can hear it above the still bright laughter of their pack mates, “It's yours, too.” Stiles’ smirk softens in surprise- _‘Oh, Der, I- ok?’-_ and Derek's heart sings a little. Neither notice that everyone else is quiet and watching them.

 

Boyd silently moves the step ladder nearer to the tree, Allison stops Scott from moving forward with a hand on his arm, and Melissa takes her camera from a nearby table, capturing the moment as Derek helps Stiles climb the ladder, and the look that passes between them when Stiles looks down at Derek after placing the wolf on top of the tree. The sheriff plugs the lights in with a warm look on his face, watching the Alpha watch his son.

 

The night winds down from there, everyone heading home after sitting around drinking hot chocolate- _‘Cocoa is like, a decorating the tree requirement, Der-_ and watching the tree, talking about day to day things, Derek basking in the contentment of his pack and watching the pattern of light cast on Stiles’ skin by the warm glowing lights on the tree.

 

After, when only Stiles and Derek remain, Derek puts in one of the CDs Stiles made him for Hanukkah and asks Stiles to dance. Stiles’ answering smile rivals the twinkling lights as he places his hands in Derek's offered upturned palm and let's himself be pulled close. They dance for several minutes, caught in each other's gaze, doing not much more than swaying together. And then, they're kissing. It grows more intense than a simple press of lips rather quickly. It's possible Derek is feeling the need to reestablish a physical connection, that both the man and his wolf are in agreement that they need to _feel_ Stiles closer.

 

So perhaps the kiss turns messy, with teeth and plunging tongues and hands pushing and pulling. The sounds falling between them are intoxicating, and Stiles smells _divine._ So Derek might actually whine when Stiles pulls away. He might also panic, just a little, until Stiles cups his face with both of his long fingered hands and smiles at him. He's gratified that Stiles’ pupils are blown wide and his lips are kiss-swollen and red, and his voice is low and rough when he says “Hey, big guy, let's go curl up and watch a movie, yeah?” And, though Derek would really like more of Stiles’ lips on his, being snuggled up on his couch, Stiles’ warmth and his smell and his heartbeat pressed close to his own, yeah that sounds pretty perfect.

 

It is.

 

\-----------------

 

The next day, Stiles shows up with a box of decorations. They take down the dreidel lights, but leave the blue and silver garland- _‘It's festive. Plus, new traditions, so no rules. And I like I like the blue, it's pretty’-_ adding white and green accents, and several large bows. “Really, Stiles?” Derek asks, holding a particularly loud bow of many colors.

 

“Yes, really. It was my mom's. I mean, if you don't-”

 

Derek feels himself _melt_ a little at the idea that Stiles is bringing something so precious into his home, so he's entirely sincere when he cuts Stiles off with “Hey, I'm honored you're sharing it with me. Where should it go?”

 

They finish decorating, watch a movie and fall asleep mid afternoon wrapped up in Stiles’ blanket on the couch.

 

The following day, he brings a poinsettia- ‘ _We needed a plant. And they're fun, look it has glitter on the pot. It's fun, right?_ \- and, thankfully, coffee.

 

They make out like teenagers for hours.

 

Stiles is busy with his dad the following day, but they text back and forth. Derek is startled by how much he misses him. Now that his entire apartment is one giant, glittering, shiny reminder of Stiles’ presence, it's both easier and harder to push his longing for Stiles’ actual presence away.

 

Stiles texts late that night, as Derek is trying to convince himself to sleep.

 

**From Stiles: Do you have baking sheets?**

 

Derek takes a moment to appreciate Stiles’ talent for the non- sequitur, even in text.

 

**To Stiles: Yes, why?**

**To Stiles: Also, how was your day with your dad?**

 

The phone rings in his hand as he hits send, and Stiles’ wide grin flashes on the screen for a moment before he answers, “Hey”, the smile on his face obvious in his voice even to his own ears.

 

“Hey, Der,” Stiles sounds like he is smiling, too, “So we're going to make cookies tomorrow, and then I thought we could have the pups over to decorate them the day after? I just need to know what I have to bring.”

 

“We're baking cookies?” Derek can't help but ask, slightly incredulous and more than a little excited. The thought of a whole day with Stiles is enough to insure a mostly sleepless night, and he used to love helping his mom in the kitchen. “That actually sounds great. I used to help my mom bake when I was little. She made the most amazing gingerbread this time of year.”

 

Stiles is quiet a long moment, but it isn't strained. He's a little shocked, really. Derek so rarely talks about his family, and the idea that he can give Derek a bit of the happiness of the memory back is a little awe inducing. “Can't wait, Der. I'll pick you up in the morning, and we can get supplies. Sweet dreams, Derek.”

 

“Good night, Stiles.” Derek knows any dreams he manages will be of Stiles and smell like spice and flour.

\------------------

 

After procuring a frankly ludicrous amount of flour, butter, sugar, eggs and various other necessities, Stiles and Derek bake an even more ridiculous number of cookies of various varieties. Derek does _not_ get misty eyed when Stiles produces a gingerbread recipe, he does however kiss him soundly before, during, and after they make little- dog shaped?- cutouts. _‘They're clearly wolves, Derek. Little gingerbread werewolves. We can give them little candy eyes. Yellow ones, and red for yours. It'll be hilarious, way better than little amorphous stick people cookies’-_ Derek begrudgingly laughs at the thought of little gingerbread betas.

 

While it's just the two of them, there are casual touches and many, many opportunities to kiss and taste and hold each other, but when the pack comes to decorate the (literally hundreds of) cookies, Stiles maintains a polite distance. He's no less friendly, or sarcastic, but he's not _more_ like Derek wants him to be. The pups, as Stiles likes to call them, eat more than they decorate, but they love the gingerbread wolves. Erica makes one with extra large eyes, “Look, it's Scott!” Scott grins and thanks her, clearly not getting the joke, puppy dog eyes in full effect.

 

Boyd is surprisingly talented at cookie art, Lydia pretends to be put out to be there, but no one misses her genuine smiles or her soft sounds of enthusiastic approval when she snags a cookie to munch on. Allison makes a little bow and arrow for her gingerbread man- _‘Gingerbread  person, we're a politically correct bunch of misfits, here’-_ which everyone finds hilarious _._ Stiles makes a cookie approximation of Derek in full shift, which everyone fusses over; Derek stealthily sets it aside so it won't get eaten. Derek is determined to talk to Stiles, figure out where they stand, and decision having been made he enjoys the rest of the evening immensely.

 

But he doesn't get a chance to talk to Stiles, because that night after having a great night with the pack, including a game of Pictionary- _‘It'll be fun, come on guys!’-_ that was frankly disturbing, Stiles declares himself too tired to drive and they spend the night cuddled in Derek's bed. Stiles’ bare back is a long line of heat against Derek's chest, their fingers wound together, Stiles’ playing a soundless tune against Derek's palm. Derek presses a kiss into Stiles’ bare shoulder, presses his smile there, says quietly “I really like having you here.”

 

Stiles kisses Derek's hand, “I like being here.”

 

They sleep like that. Neither remembers ever having slept better.

\-------------

 

The remaining week leading up to Christmas passes much the same, Stiles comes over, usually with some kind of Christmas themed activity or trinket. There are pack movie nights- _‘Die Hard is the best Christmas movie of all time. Anyone who doesn't think so is dumb’-_ and movie nights with just the two of them. Everyone comes over for hot cider and charades, (and everyone leaves maybe a little scarred from that particular experience-Stiles and Scott were teamed up at one point, and things got awkward- their little misfit tree gets decked out in tinsel and bows and placed on a table near the entry. They hang a wreath, then another - _’This one is handmade, Derek. By the cutest little old lady and her grandkids. Look at the little snowman on it!’-_ and the cooking for Christmas dinner is done side by side with Stiles and a rotating roster of their friends and family.

 

Derek is happy. Really, honestly happy.

 

Except something is missing. There is one Christmas tradition that is markedly absent from the house, from Stiles’ preparations.

 

There are strings of tiny lights. There are miles of garland and tinsel. There are multiple wreaths and two trees. There have been cookies and cocoa and there's going to be enough food for twice the number of people, even accounting for werewolf appetites. If there were snow- _‘Just enough for one little snow person, is that too much to ask for?’-_ , there would've been snowmen and snow angels and snowball fights. There's a poinsettia, for Pete's sake.

 

And not one single sprig of mistletoe.

 

Does Stiles not want to risk kissing him in front of people? Does he not want people to know they're together? Derek can't quite believe he's forgotten, since he's not left out anything else even remotely Christmassy, they even watched the animated Rudolph and lamented about The Island of Misfit Toys. So he must have left it out on purpose.

 

Well, fuck that.

 

Derek buys mistletoe, the plastic kind, because he doesn't particularly want to hurt himself or his pack. He buys a lot of mistletoe; there's no way Stiles will be able to avoid kissing him, unless he _actively_ avoids it.

 

Derek is a genius.

\------------

 

Stiles is late for the party, in that he's not the first to get there, and when he arrives he is clearly in a less than cheerful mood. Derek tenses as he shuffles his way toward him, intensely aware of the plastic berries he is standing purposefully underneath. Stiles is in no apparent hurry, greeting everyone along the way.

 

“What's wro-" Derek is interrupted by an exaggerated “A-hem,” and he and Stiles both turn to see the rest of the pack looking at them expectantly and pointing above their heads. At the mistletoe.

 

Shit. Derek suddenly thinks this may have been a bad idea, he looks at Stiles reluctantly, expecting to see annoyance on his face. Instead, he gets to witness Stiles’ bad mood melt away and a brilliant grin take it's place. “Where did you find that? I looked everywhere! I drove two towns away today because someone said they might have fake mistletoe, it's why I was late!”

 

Oh. Oh! “I thought maybe you didn't want-”

 

“Um, guys?” Allison interrupts, “We're all kind of waiting for you to do the whole kiss under the mistletoe thing so we can get back to the party.”

 

“And we can collect on our betting pool,” Lydia adds.

 

Stiles and Derek stare at their friends for a moment before Derek's brain catches up, then he's wrapping his arms around Stiles, pulling him close and reveling in the kiss. Stiles’ arms wrap around Derek's neck and he practically melts into Derek’s embrace.

 

Erica shouting “You all owe me money! Pay up!” startles them out of the kiss, and they shoot matching incredulous looks at their pack mates.

 

“Hey,” Scott defends, “we all bet, er, were rooting for you. We just had a small wager on when you'd figure it out and tell us.”

 

“We're really happy for you guys, honest,” Boyd adds.

 

Stiles and Derek are still close, tucked into one another's side, they exchange a look.

 

“Alright, you're all forgiven,” Derek laughs out, failing spectacularly at stern.

 

“You jerks are lucky I'm too happy right now to be mad, I'm totally in charge of dessert,” Stiles adds. Everyone laughs and goes back to talking and snacking, Stiles stays close to Derek, and it's amazing.

 

Melissa and the sheriff arrive soon after, they take a moment to talk to Stiles’ dad, who simply replies “I'm a police officer, guys. And neither one of you is subtle. Be good to each other.” He hugs them both, clapping a hand on Derek's shoulder and smiling affectionately, he says “I would welcome you to the family, son, but you've been a part of it for some time now, so I'll just say that I'm awful glad you two figured it out. Merry Christmas.”

 

Derek is left slightly stunned add the sheriff walks away, Stiles gives him a chaste kiss and leads him to the table. They sit and eat; it's loud and messy and bright in his house. His pack is happy and together, the meal is delicious, he has a family. He has a partner. His life is _good._ And Derek is happy.

 

Derek moves their little tree to his room.

 

Later, when he and Stiles are in bed, Stiles’ head pillowed on Derek's chest, Derek will tell Stiles this, that he's happy. And Stiles will grin and kiss right over his heart and say “I'm glad,” and they'll fall asleep tracing lazy patterns into each other's skin, the soft glow of Christmas lights dancing across them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I post fic teasers and some not-fics I tumblr @rk-writes-things!


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